


Morning Calling

by Zilchtastic



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:10:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilchtastic/pseuds/Zilchtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cho Hakkai wakes to another morning.</p><p>He knows immediately that he isn't dreaming, because when he turns his head he can't make out the bedside clock, not even when he squints. If this were a dream, his vision would be perfect. Also, there would be a whole lot more blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Calling

Cho Hakkai wakes to another morning.

He knows immediately that he isn't dreaming, because when he turns his head he can't make out the bedside clock, not even when he squints. If this were a dream, his vision would be perfect. Also, there would be a whole lot more blood.

He closes his right eye and gropes around on the bedside table, looking for his monocle, his glasses, whichever he'd taken off the night before. He can't actually remember which he's been wearing recently.

Something clatters to the floor.

Hakkai doesn't curse. It's nothing to curse over, he tells himself. He'll just crawl out of bed and check the floor, and then he'll get up and start the day. In just a minute. One minute more.

He stares up at the ceiling.

With his left eye he can see waterstains, spotted and dark, and one long crack that really ought to be repaired before the spring rains start up. When he shuts his left eye and opens his right, he gets... nothing. A blob of white. He raises his hand in front of his face, and it's just a flesh-toned blur with a vague suggestion of human shape. He can't see the lines on his palm. He can't even see his fingernails.

He lets his hand drop back to the sheets, and he sighs.

He really should get up. Gojyo's bound to be stirring soon, and there's breakfast to be started. Hakuryu is surely hungry, too, and probably needs to go out. And then there's the laundry, and maybe some shopping, and if he finds the time he knows that one of Gojyo's shirts is badly torn and needs mending.

Hakkai crawls out of bed. He sits on the floor for far too long, long enough that he starts to nod off with his head against the bedframe. He startles awake with a jerk. _Glasses. Yes. Find them._ He feels around on the floor, the wood rough against his fingers. _Where on earth did they fall?_

It's dusty under the bed, and he cringes when he grabs up an old sock, thrown there carelessly untold ages ago by Gojyo. He tosses it behind him in the general direction of the clothes-hamper and then flattens himself to the floor, reaching further. His bangs are in the way and he can't see a thing.

_Loose change. Half a shoelace. Dried leaves. Dear deities above, is that a sandwich wrapper?_ Apparently letting Gojyo help with the chores has done more harm than good; his idea of 'tidying up' is not exactly what Hakkai would call "tidy". He grits his teeth and strains, groping blindly. He's hoping he won't find the sandwich to go with the wrapper.

At long last his fingertips find the smooth line of his glasses, and he emerges from under the bed, triumphant. He has to wipe them free of dustballs before he can put them on. He adds sweeping to the growing list of chores in his head, and ignores the small voice that's trying to call him back to bed.

"There's dust in your hair," Gojyo says, from the doorway.

Hakkai jerks, startled. Gojyo is leaning against the doorframe, grinning from ear to ear, an unlit cigarette between his lips.

"How long have you been standing there, Gojyo?" He tries to put a laugh into it, but even to his own ears it comes out a little peevish.

"Like five minutes," Gojyo says. The grin widens, if that's possible. "Your ass wiggles when you're face-down like that, y'know."

Hakkai takes a deep breath, and then he counts slowly backwards from ten, just for good measure.

He slides his glasses off. Gojyo is now blurry. He squints up at him, looking out of his bad eye, and Gojyo is more of a watercolor impression than an actual _figure_. It could almost be pretty, in a demented sort of way.

"I'm going back to bed," he announces, surprising even himself.

"You're not gonna--" Gojyo breaks off abruptly. _Make breakfast_, Hakkai's sure he'd been about to say, before good sense kicked in. "...Okay, sure, whatever."

Hakkai stretches, setting the glasses back on the nightstand.

"There are eggs in the refrigerator," he says, as he climbs back under the covers, "and there's enough bread left for toast. Let Hakuryu out _before_ he starts scratching at the door."

"Any other orders, Master Hakkai?" Gojyo doesn't seem to know whether to sound sarcastic, amused, or perplexed.

"Yes," Hakkai says, as he turns over to face the wall. "Bring me breakfast in an hour. On a tray." He yawns heavily and lets his eyes slide shut. "Eggs over easy."

He deserves it, he thinks. One whole day, to explore being lazy.

He'll worry about the laundry tomorrow.


End file.
